


I've got you (by my side)

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Series: Sterek Bingo 2017 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Children mentioned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Stiles, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Werewolf Derek, assumes Allison Erica and Boyd are dead, implied full shift Derek Hale, married Stiles and Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 14:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: Getting better is not the same as forgetting.Theme: Comfort





	I've got you (by my side)

**Author's Note:**

> For [Sterek Bingo](https://sterek-bingo.tumblr.com)
> 
> For the theme: Comfort
> 
> As always: Kudos, comments and constructive critism are welcome, I'll might even listen :)

* * *

It had taken years for them to get to this point in time. Years of hostility bleeding into acquaintanceship evolving into friendship. They’d fought, bled, cried and cheered together. Stiles had left for college, had seen some of the world, gotten air beneath his wings before he came back, came _home_ , moved in with his dad and gotten a job.  
Derek had stayed, had begun to heal. In the end he’d had the house torn down, letting the forest reclaim the clearing where it had stood, running between the trees every full moon to honor them, remember in a way he couldn’t back at the loft.

It wasn’t a surprise when Stiles had marched through his door one day and dragged him outside, taken him to the diner where he’d ordered curly fries for himself and a bacon-cheeseburger for Derek. That had been ten years, three weddings and five children ago - not all of which were Stiles’ and Derek’s.

The thing was, though, that even now, so many years, therapy and happiness later Derek still had nightmares. Not often, maybe only once every six months does he wake up with a scream stuck in his throat, the flicker of flames against the walls of their bedroom and the acrid smell of ashes and burnt flesh in his nose.  
Stiles - who usually needs three different alarms to even stir enough to reach an arm out for the first, who once managed to sleep happily through their daughter standing five inches from his face banging a metal spoon against the gong (Stiles hadn’t been faking, Derek had listened carefully) - is instantly awake, moves even closer to Derek. Stiles’ feet snaking around Derek’s, his left leg nudging Derek’s apart while his rights molds against Derek’s, their pelvises slotting together like pieces of a puzzle. There’s nothing sexual about it but the feel of Stiles’ soft skin, the way their dicks slide against each other is what anchors him in reality, makes him close his eyes to will the flames away.

It’s not until Derek has willed the walls back to their usual whiteness that he winds his arm around Stiles waist, prompting the younger to finally close the last distance between them, putting his own around Derek’s shoulder and pulling him so they’re touching head to toe at long last.  
Derek tightens his hold and hides his face in Stiles’ neck, breathing in deep and letting the myriad of different smells drown out the remnants of ashes, savoring the unique scent that is all _Stiles_ and _home_ and _love_. 

They lay like that for hours; Derek’s head slowly migrating to Stiles’ chest where he can listen to the way his heart beats, a little faster and slightly irregular compared to other people but this is how Stiles’ heart has sounded since he was sixteen and trespassed on private property. It’s the rhythm Derek listens for every moment of his life, the one that let’s him know he’s safe from fire and death, the sound of his anchor being near.

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by a picture I saw on Tumblr of Stiles' back and Derek's arm holding him.


End file.
